


Known, Seen, Loved

by Tearose_romantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude's true name, Claudeleth, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Minor Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Morning After Marriage, Post-Canon, Some references to sex but nothing explicit, Strong men with soft feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tearose_romantic/pseuds/Tearose_romantic
Summary: The morning after their wedding, Claude contemplates the wonder of a woman he's finally married.Closing his eyes again, the King of Fódlan and Almyra nuzzled his wife’s shoulder sleepily.  She was finally here--finallyhis--in his arms.  And it felt so right to have her warm, strong body pressed against his own, no armor or clothing between them.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	Known, Seen, Loved

Claude languidly opened his eyes, feeling the heavy tendrils of sleep loosening their grip. How late had he slept? He foggily noticed the rays of sunlight filtering through the balcony windows of the Archbishop’s chambers. His wife’s chambers. 

His arms tightened tenderly around Byleth’s waist at the thought. His wife. How long he’d waited to give her that title, longed for her from halfway across the world. And now, here they were, cloistered together in the monastery, finally married and sheltered away from the rest of the world. 

Closing his eyes again, the King of Fódlan and Almyra nuzzled his wife’s shoulder sleepily. She was finally here--finally _his_ \--in his arms. And it felt so _right_ to have her warm, strong body pressed against his own, no armor or clothing between them. Claude had never shared a bed with another. Even on sleepless nights as a child, his parents would sit next to his bed, but never join him. He always knew that there were certain delights in sharing a bed with a woman, but he hadn’t thought about them in the most literal sense before. (Of course, the more implied aspects of sharing a bed had been quite delightful as well.) 

Claude had never slept so soundly in his whole life as his wedding night. Something deep inside him--something always on the alert--finally unwound with another person sleeping beside him. He felt peaceful, so profoundly peaceful. The metronome of Byleth’s deep, quiet breaths banished any whirling thoughts that normally kept him from falling asleep. And the extra warmth radiating off her body felt divine against the subtle bite of the spring evening. Claude decided he could get used to this marriage thing, if only to keep Byleth as a bedmate for the rest of his life. 

Inhaling deeply, Claude could still faintly smell the flowers woven in Byleth’s hair from the day before. Lilies of the valley and lavender. She’d looked so beautiful in the gown Hilda had commissioned, (of course the Duchess of Delegation wouldn’t make something so intricate herself!), all white satin and lace. Byleth was the perfect image of a blushing Fódlanese bride, ephemeral as a moonbeam and soft as dovedown. Claude smiled. He couldn’t wait for the second ceremony to come, when he could see her resplendent in reds and golds as a proud, Almyran bride. 

It felt more natural to how Claude envisioned her. Byleth was no delicate maiden. She was a goddess of war and strategy: strong, powerful, clever, competent, and utterly fearsome. She had been the answer to his prayers, both voiced and unvoiced. She was a powerful soldier, a capable general, a trusted friend, a dear confidant, and the keeper of his heart, all rolled into one awe-inspiring woman. He felt blessed to have met her, let alone to be holding her now, watching her rest peacefully in the sunlight. Any mortal would feel lucky to witness a goddess in repose. 

A small groan rumbled against his chest, pulling him from his memories of the previous day’s celebration and musings of the celebration yet to come. Byleth’s shoulders rolled ever-so-slightly, and Claude couldn’t stop the sleep-drunk grin that bloomed across his face. His wife made the cutest noises. “Good morning, By,” he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep. 

Byleth exhaled, too tired to draw away from the tickle of his breath on her ear. “Morning…” That softness to her voice, normally so firm and commanding, sent a flutter of warmth through Claude. A private, special quality to her voice--not unlike those he’d teased from her the night before. His alone to hear. 

Claude placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her cheek. The young king was rewarded with a breathy giggle that widened his already dopey smile. “You look positively resplendent this morning, Archbishop,” his words teasingly formal. 

Byleth responded promptly with a pillow to his smug face. “...‘s too early for jokes,” she grumbled, but Claude saw a smile rebelliously sparkling in her slitted eyes. 

Claude rolled over in mock distress, clutching the pillow dramatically to his chest. “Ah, we’ve not made it to the honeymoon yet and already she tires of me!”

“How can you be so talkative so early?” Byleth murmured into her pillow, each word forced and rumbling deep in her chest. 

“You know me, my star,” Claude smiled his most disarming grin at the one iridescent, green eye poking out from his wife’s pillow, “running my mouth every second I’m awake. Gotta get an early start. It’s our first day as a married couple, after all.” 

Byleth turned her head back into the pillow, but not before Claude caught a small crinkle around the edge of her exposed eye. Wordlessly, she lifted up one of her arms: an invitation and a truce. 

Claude slipped deftly beneath her arm and brought his own around her back. His fingers languidly traced the scars littered across Byleth’s back. His mind still reeled from the memories of the night before. The openness, the vulnerability, the wholehearted acceptance he’d felt still left him awestruck. How this person could see every last piece of himself--unpolished, laid bare, and utterly defenseless--and not only accept it but cherish it defied every deep instinct within him. And he never felt so seen, so felt, so unabashedly loved. “Last night was amazing,” Claude murmured in Byleth’s embrace. “Thank you, for all of it.”

Byleth removed her head from the shelter of her pillow. She responded with a simple smile, and a tender touch to his cheek. Claude sighed. Even after touching her all night, each precious embrace remained a heavenly delight. Months and months on the other side of the world could do that to a person. He’d known that hunger for touch, and like a man who has known starvation, he gorged himself each chance he had.

Byleth often spoke like this: not in words, but in touches, in a listening ear, in staying close. Her love had certainly grown more explicit in the years he’d known her, but Claude still cherished these little, nonverbal “I love you”s she showered onto him. He recalled last night, how she’d made a point of kissing his forehead, his eyelids, his fingers, even as she pleasured him. She kissed him like he was something special, something worthy of admiration and care, all while she stole his sanity with her hips and hands. He never felt more blessed by the gods than when she had made love to him. 

A series of energetic knocks pulled the newlyweds from their comfortable silence. “Hey, lovebirds, you up?” 

Hilda. Claude and Byleth grimaced simultaneously. Any other time, it would have been a delight to have a visit from her. Presently, it was a bit of a mood killer. 

“Maybe if we’re _really_ quiet, she’ll leave us alone!”, Claude stage whispered, an acerbic undertone to the playful words. Byleth tittered quietly at the jest. 

“Don’t try to fool me, Mr. and Mrs. Leaderman!” Claude grinned at Hilda’s playful retort. He could practically envision her arms akimbo with her signature sass. “You both are getting breakfast in the next five minutes, so make yourselves decent or poor Marianne is going to have a stroke when she gets here.”

“Well, if the toll for breakfast is pants, I guess we can oblige.” Claude sighed heavily. “Thanks for the warning, Hils.” 

“I am simply looking out for my fiancée,” Hilda deflected, a cheeky grin evident in her voice, “Don’t want her dying on me. But still, congratulations, you two. Hope you can walk to the gift-opening later.” The click-click of the commander’s heels on stone faded as she went down the stairs. Leave it to Hilda to not miss a chance to throw in a barb even when being kind. She really was the sister Claude always wished he had. 

Arching his back away from the bed, Claude stretched until his feet twitched, savoring the burn in his sore muscles. The danger in Hilda’s veiled insinuation may have been more spot-on than Claude wished. “Well, I guess we had to get up eventually, though I would certainly have preferred if we had some more time alone.” 

As he rolled over to begin leaving the bed, he suddenly felt his wife’s arms and legs tangle around him. Claude felt his heart swell at his wife’s silent plea. “By,” he rubbed her arm gently, “you heard the woman. I just gotta put on a dressing robe or something.” His wife responded simply by burrowing her head between his shoulder blades with a small whine. Stars above, his wife really did make the cutest noises! 

“I’m going to get out of bed,” Claude threatened, “and I’m taking you with me if you don’t let go.” Byleth simply tightened her grip, her muscles rippling around his waist. A defiant challenge to a king from a goddess. 

“Don’t try to out-stubborn me, my star,” Claude’s voice darkened playfully as he shifted further towards the edge of the bed, “you know it’s a losing battle.” Claude could feel her smiling against his back, that same cocky smile he saw when she had him in checkmate. How could he leave that challenge unanswered?

In one fluid motion, Claude heaved himself and his human rucksack out from the delicious warmth of the down blankets into the nippy air of the Harpstring Moon morning. Byleth von Reigan, the Ashen Demon, the Fell Star incarnate, his warrior-queen of a wife, squealed like a child from the cold air and sudden lurch. Claude grinned like a madman, a boyish energy filling him at the sound. Her squeal dissolved into laughter as Claude decided to whirl around in a circle, singing snatches of an Almyran ditty all while his wife clung desperately to his back. 

This, this right here was why he’d married Byleth. No one else could bring that youthful joy and bombast out of him the way she did, after he’d thought it long buried beneath years of war, ambition, and subterfuge. He didn’t need to put on masks with her. Claude could be his entire, authentic self around her. It was like his first taste of air on a wyvern’s back: refreshing, invigorating, and addictive as sin. Now that he had this openness and acceptance between himself and his wife, he knew of no other life worth living.

After his feverish twirling and singing came to an end, Byleth extricated herself from Claude’s back. Her legs wobbled for a moment like a newborn deer, but she steadied herself against his shoulder. Her smile nearly dazzled him with how wide and silly it was. “I guess I needed to get dressed anyways,” her voice breathy with echoes of her earlier laughter. 

“I did give you fair warning,” Claude quipped back, huffing and puffing after his childish song and dance. 

“You did, but I should know to expect the unexpected with you.” Byleth opened her wardrobe and collected a cream, linen shift. 

“Indeed,” Claude flashed his left hand triumphantly, his precious, silver band glinting in the sun, “you promised no take-backs. You’re stuck with me now.” 

“Khalid, I know what I got into,” Byleth groused as she pulled the shift over her head, ruffling her already-unkempt hair. 

With that, all the air was driven from the newlywed king’s lungs. Hearing his given name--not the moniker he’d given himself while in Fódlan--from Byleth’s lips still affected him deeply. Another weakness, another chink in his armor he entrusted to her, and all the more sensitive for its prolonged concealment. 

He embraced his wife, kissing her forehead tenderly as his heart pounded beneath his sternum. “Can you call me by name again?” he whispered, allowing himself another childlike indulgence. 

Byleth wrapped her arms around the young king, one hand on his back, the other tangled in his wild, brown locks. Her expression soft, she intoned, “My dearest husband, Khalid ibn Samad, I know you, and I love you.” The same voice she used when they shared their vows the day before.

With a tight embrace, Claude basked in the warmth of his wife’s words. His true name, his true self, he’d long ago laid bare before her. And over and over again she reminded him that she understood and loved him, all of him. Overwhelmed with affection, Claude kissed her softly. “I love you. With everything I am.”

Byleth pressed her forehead against his and closed her eyes. “I know.” 

Hot tears welled up in the corner of Claude’s eyes. He remembered the words of his father, that a true partner gilds your whole life golden. Each joy more resplendent and the worst sorrows become beautiful with someone who stands by your side. Already he felt that same blessing with his wife. Silently, he thanked every star in the sky for giving him Byleth as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. 

A nervous knock came at the door. “Claude? Professor? Are you two awake? I have some breakfast if you’d like some.” 

Marianne’s gentle voice brought them both back from their moment of quiet tenderness. Claude placed one last, lingering peck to Byleth’s cheek before he donned his golden dressing robe. As he tied the knot around his waist, Claude contemplated the journey ahead. 

Their first day of their married life was about to begin in earnest. Already, his life was richer for Byleth being a part of it. Now, the rest of their lives together would begin. A whole life, working together to bring a brighter dawn to the world and break down the walls of the two nations so long separated. A life where each morning involved a wakeup like today’s, and rest as peaceful as he’d ever known. Claude walked confidently to the door, eager to begin it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write for me, especially the cute, cheeky nonsense Claude gets up to in this piece. I love writing cute, mushy, cuddly stuff between these two! 
> 
> I'm posting this roughly one year out from my marriage date. Looking forward to marrying my own best friend who gilds my life golden. Can't wait to end this LDR. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!


End file.
